Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
When we arrive at the hospital, no doctors rush to her side to see if they can help her. They wheel her through the doors and take her into a room, where she’s pronounced dead a few minutes later. The time of 18:38 engraves itself on my soul when it’s called out in the quiet room, and the same officer who’d been at the house walks over to stand next to me.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says quietly, and I look up at him, feeling dazed like this is a living nightmare. “You told dispatch that she fell down the stairs.”
Shaking my head, I try to pull myself together enough to speak. “Yes, I… walked into the house and found her at the bottom of the steps.”
“You’ll have to get in touch with the morgue here at the hospital tomorrow. They will tell you what needs to be done for your grandmother.”
“She wasn’t my grandmother.” Tears fill my eyes. “She didn’t have any kids, her great-nephew is the guy who was at the house with me.” I glance over at the bed where Mrs. Lewis is still lying. “Will someone tell him?”
“I can if you’d like.”
“Please,” I whisper. I don’t think I have it in me to deliver that news. I know Josh knew she passed before she even left the house, but I don’t want to be the one to confirm that for him.
“Do you want a ride back home?”
I don’t. I want to walk to clear my head, but I know I should be there when the policeman talks to Josh to make sure he doesn’t need help calling anyone. “Yeah.”
Without a word, he walks over to talk to the doctor who called the time of death, and then a minute later, he ushers me outside to his car.
When we arrive at the house, he follows me up to the front door, and I let us inside. It’s quiet… so quiet you could hear a pin drop if you were listening for it.
“Does her nephew live here?”
“He’s staying on the third floor.” I avoid looking at the blood still staining the floor at the bottom of the steps as I walk to the staircase. I don’t want to go up, but I still lead the way. The stairway is dark. Not even the single light that used to be here works any longer, since Josh and his friends have been redoing the electrical wiring, something that seems to be taking forever.
Turning on his flashlight, the policeman shines it on the steps, and I notice some blood smeared on the wall. The sight makes me sick to my stomach. He must notice it too, because for a brief moment, his light zeroes in on it.
“This was her apartment.” I point at her door as we make it to the landing, then continue up the next flight of stairs. At the third floor, I knock, and a moment later, the door is opened by a somber-looking Josh.
“Hey,” I say quietly. “Can we come in?”
“Yeah.” He looks at the officer briefly and opens the door all the way. We step inside, and his friends who are always with him are nowhere in sight as I glance around. But the apartment that was once a short-term rental and decorated much like mine is now a mess. There are pizza boxes and beer cans on every surface and garbage overflowing the trash can in the kitchen. If Mrs. Lewis had seen how they were treating her home, she would have lost her mind.
Taking a seat on the edge of the couch next to Josh, I listen to the policeman confirm his aunt passed away. Josh doesn’t make a noise or even cry; he just stares off into the distance like a zombie.
“Do you want me to help you call anyone?” I ask him when the officer leaves after getting our information and saying he will be back tomorrow to fill out a proper report.
He looks over at me and blinks like he didn’t even remember I was here. “I called my mum and dad. They’re on their way with Nanny’s sister.”
“Is there anyone else you want to call? Maybe your friends or someone to come sit with you until they get here?”
“Tim and Nathan should be back soon.”
“All right.” I rub his back when he leans forward, burying his face in his hands.
“I should have finished the lighting yesterday like I told her I would. She probably couldn’t see.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It is,” he says quietly, and I swallow over my own guilt. “She just always seemed so capable.”
“She did.” She was, even at her age, and could run circles around some of the people my age without even trying. Which is why I never saw her as old, even knowing she was in her eighties. She still took daily walks, worked in her garden, and took trips every few months to visit her friends around Europe. I never once saw her even stumble.